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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480410">Walking on water, walking with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme'>StormXPadme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Tales Untold" &amp; "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cake, Come as Lube, Deepthroating, Eating Disorders, Finno and Mae are unable to use proper lube, Food Sex, Frottage, Gags, Himring, Hithlum, Honey, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Link, Oral Sex, Restraints, Russingon, Therapy, Whipped Cream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:21:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Findekáno can't take the memories of Angband from Maitimo. But maybe he can drown them out.</p><p>***</p><p>While this oneshot-collection is part of my main verse, it's not necessary to know any of the other parts to understand it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Tales Untold" &amp; "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. My eyes when I couldn't see</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is gonna be a series of Russingon oneshots that are connected but are not following a huge epic plot. It's mostly trauma processing in the bedroom, really. Updates will follow irregularly.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>At first, Findekáno doesn't understand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm not sure what it is you want me to do here." His pupils are wide, his skin ice-cold. "I'm not him."</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"You're not supposed to be." Maitimo never lowers his eyes. In the flickering light of flames, his scar-covered body is laid bare and vulnerable. "I need you to be you. For me."</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"You said to me that nothing can erase the memories." Findekáno stares down on his hand where it's still resting close to Maitimo's groin. It never felt so wrong, and he wants to take it away. But he feels numb and heavy and can't move.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And his husband is still aching for him.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm not asking you to." Maitimo takes him by the wrist and guides him down. He sighs and bucks but his eyes stay wide open, as they do since Findekáno returned him from torture and near-death.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"Then what …?"</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo turns his head to the tools he's laid out on his nightstand and shudders. Then he closes his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I want you to replace those memories."</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The blindfold comes first, because that was how it started.</p><p>If they do this, Findekáno condition has been that it is happening one by one. Night by night. Twice a month, at most.</p><p>When the nightmares get worse, this whole ridiculous experiment is off. And the moment he can tell, the fear that he can feel in his husband's heart via their marriage bond, is no longer the past but their bed, he's out.</p><p>Now he stares at the simple black cloth, neatly folded, lying ready next to the halo of flames that is his husband's hair on the pillow, and all he can think of is how the enemy took his sight away for a month straight when they brought him in.</p><p>His hands on Maitimo's quickly heaving chest go numb and stiff again.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks of how his husband has been alone and terrified in the darkness of both his cell and the bandages covering half of his face, while Findekáno shut him out, in justified anger and bitterness while fighting his own battles on the ice. He thinks of how Maitimo has been blind when they branded him and pierced his skin with metal bearing the mark of the Dark Lord, and how he never knew what was coming, how he was to be tortured next.</p><p>How Maitimo could not see even the face of the demon that would make his life a misery for the next few years, when the Maia first violated him, and how he never knew who and how many would be next.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno thinks about all that as his husband looks up at him from pleading eyes, and he knows, he's seen it in Maitimo's head and not his own.</p><p>"I can't," he hears himself say.</p><p>But his body is paralyzed, and all he can feel against his naked legs and hips is his lover's heat and want for him, so he's not going anywhere. And he still doesn't <em>understand</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I want you to," Maitimo repeats, and this should be enough, this should be what counts. This is about <em>him</em>; he's the one who went through all of the worst, an elf can possible endure and still live. Him, not Findekáno.</p><p> </p><p><em>But what about me?</em> a selfish, terrified voice inside him screams. Maitimo flinches, and Valar, sometimes Findekáno curses that neither of them has been able to shut their mental connection off since it flared back to life after Angband.</p><p>He doesn't want to be the asshole in this. He doesn't want his husband to know that he feels like he doesn't have a choice, not when Maitimo <em>needs</em> this to move on, to recover, to not spend every other night trembling and crying in his arms anymore. But if he <em>doesn't</em> tell him, their trust could suffer worse than from watching ships burn in the distance that doomed his people and him to suffer for decades on their own.</p><p>
  <em>This is wrong, Russo. I cannot use force on you. And if I do, it is I who is under force.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pain flares in Maitimo's bright eyes once more. Guilt, shame. But still, he doesn't look away. He's not made this easy on himself, he's thought about it for two years straight; and Fëanáro's son doesn't easily back out of trouble. Not anymore.</p><p>Besides, they've <em>tried</em> other ways, tried to pretend, to recreate the situation without the need for drastic measures, but it's a reflex to open one's eyes at every unexpected sensation, and that's not what Maitimo craves for. He needs to relearn, in his heart, not only his head, that nothing unexpected coming from Findekáno can hurt him.</p><p>His remaining hand is on Findekáno's again, the other, maimed arm still beside him on the pillow, on the cloth. He brings their lengths together in Findekáno's hand until they're stroking together, fingers interlaced, bodies glistening with desire.</p><p>
  <em>Does this feel to you like force to you?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno's eyes slip close and still he can feel his husband watching him, he can feel his desperate need for comfort and oblivion inside of him. An ocean of copper and gold, torn by flashes of black scorching the surface, poisoning the air, killing the life. Always, every night, every waking hour.</p><p>Findekáno can do something about that. He can.</p><p>He just needs to hold on to something, like how Maitimo feels against him when he thrusts, tender velvet in a warm glide of arousal. The needy, broken moans in a voice that might never sound the same anymore from a voice box too often broken and healed over. The way, this ocean inside flows into the silver and blue of his own until they're one, until they're clear of the threatening acid and the surface can weather the storm of the pain.</p><p>Maybe he can't do this, but together they can. And if they are like this, if they stay melted, then …</p><p> </p><p>Then there will be no darkness. If Maitimo needs it, he can see through Findekáno's eyes. If he wants <em>out</em>, he can let Findekáno know, even faster than with any word.</p><p> </p><p>Finally he knows what he must do, and with the pressure falls the fear and the reluctance, and he feels free again.</p><p> </p><p>He wants Maitimo to be free too. Now and if they get through this whole thing, hopefully, forever.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally reaches for the cloth, he can feel his lover tense under him and takes a second to congratulate himself on his foresight. Instead of wrapping it around Maitimo‘s head, he carefully lowers it down on his eyes, multiply folded layers of black covering his lover's closed lids, keeping out the world without shutting him from it, his sight but a quick jerk of his head away.</p><p>Their lips meet, and all Findekáno can taste on Maitimo's tongue is hunger. His slightly larger cock throbs against Findekáno's sensitive length, and he wants to taste more. Now he can do so without fearing, his husband will go into shock and dread if he leaves him out of sight for a few seconds.</p><p><em>You're in control. You're with </em>me, he whispers to him, over and over, as he slips downward on the bed, greedy tongue flickering over hardened nipples, dipping into twitching abs, finally licking off what traces of white his hand has left on a painfully hard erection already.</p><p>
  <em>Stay with me. Stay here.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I am here.</em>
</p><p>Maitimo's good hand claws down on what is left of Findekáno's braids after an hour of making out. He moans as Findekáno takes it deliberately slow, and tilts his head back but never enough to throw off the loose shield that allows every of his other senses to take in his lover's tender administrations so much more intensely.</p><p>Findekáno keeps his eyes on him as well as he can manage from this angle – at least when he's not busy swallowing his husband's cock down to the hilt und nuzzle his face closely to his loins instead – and is more than relieved to see nothing but the flush of lust on his scar-broken cheeks. Maitimo's beautiful full lips are slightly swollen from teeth and kissing, a mingled strand of hair between them blowing in more and more frequent quick pants, and Maitimo is even too caught up to push it away.</p><p>When Findekáno swallows around him, getting as lost in his husband's well-known grounded taste as he allows himself, Maitimo shudders and groans. One of his legs comes up bent instinctively, his knee nearly knocking Findekáno in the head as he writhes and opens himself up in instinctive need for more.</p><p> </p><p>The oil is close enough to reach it with the hand not busy stroking and kneading a too full, too heavy set of balls, and Findekáno makes sure to warm the vial in his fist for a moment before he brushes the rounded surface along his lover's flank. A question that doesn't need asking and still needs to be posed. The warmth and longing and relief he can feel flood his lust-addled soul is confirmation enough.</p><p>His own untouched arousal is long forgotten, but an afterthought of his hips rutting into the mattress while he sucks his husband off, and that's alright. He can take care of that later.</p><p> </p><p>Preferably with the image of a stark-naked, trembling, turned on Maitimo on his mind, stretched out before him unmoving, in a way, Findekáno can't remember it in at least an Age. Only the careful arch of his hips into Findekáno's slowly sucking mouth and the hand seeking purchase in his hair are the slightest reminder of his usual agitation and restlessness in bed. For this sight alone, bringing himself to do this has been worth it.</p><p> </p><p>He goes back to teasing because his tongue and throat are heavy and sticky with too much salt already, and he doesn't want this beautiful picture of at least an attempt at peace and being at ease to end just yet. The tip of his tongue drawing lazy circles on Maitimo reddened shaft, lapping up new drops of precum before they even form, he carefully opens him up, without haste, without pressure, just enough to keep two of his fingers deeply inside of him, firmly against the one spot he knows will make his husband lose the last of his control.</p><p>Then he takes him in again till he can't breathe, taste, feel anything else but Maitimo, on him, in him, inside his soul, his fingers thrust and probe and then his husband comes down his throat, shouting his name in that rough, coarse voice of his, and it's maybe the most beautiful sound he's heard in a while.</p><p>The cloth is still where he left it when he gently kisses his way back up Maitimo's chest and seeks his lips for a chaste, light kiss.</p><p>
  <em>Close your eyes.</em>
</p><p>It's not very bright in his bedroom, but he doesn't want his lover in pain, not even for a second. <em>That</em> is something Maitimo cannot ask of him, ever, and fortunately, his husband knows that.</p><p>But what they just did, worked far better than expected, and Findekáno thinks he can live quite well with that expression of pure content and gratitude Maitimo regards him with when he finally opens his eyes again.</p><p> </p><p>There's a tear or two in them as well, maybe, but those, Findekáno definitely can live with. They have gone through a lot of tears in their lives, and many far more evil than these.</p><p>
  <em>Thank you, mîl.</em>
</p><p>When they kiss again, they sink back into that deeper connection once more that has shortly been stirred and ripped but never torn by lust. The red and gold is a steady stream, turbulent still, and the occasional threat of black never leaves the horizon. But tonight, at least, there will be no flood.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno puts the cloth back on the bedside table. There will be next time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>* mîl = love</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Free me from all these chains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>They end up talking about the restraints for almost a month.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That the experiment with the blindfold worked surprisingly well, doesn't mean they should challenge their luck. And even Maitimo is uncertain about how to proceed with the next step of this little personal, intimate quest of theirs. How is he supposed to unlearn the fear of being tied up when the mere touch of rope, leather or metal on his wrist has him flinch?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>To both their surprise, this time, it's Findekáno who pushes. Not because he feels any better about these nights when he's supposed to bring his husband back to the borders of Angband in his mind, to bring all of these worst memories of his life to the surface and seal them with a layer of consensual desire and Age-old love. Not because he </em>wants<em> this.</em></p><p>
  <em>But because outside the sheltered little world of their bedroom, the world is moving on, and someday, Maitimo will have to fully return to it. Findekáno doesn't want to see him break down under the burden that is his past ordeal in the wrong moment then.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So he puts his foot down when Maitimo hesitates, once more feeling like the biggest asshole on this whole wide, fucked-up world an ocean away from their true home.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>It should make him feel better that Maitimo closes his arms around him in relief about the decision having been taken off his shoulders, that he whispers his gratitude into Findekáno's ear, kissing and nibbling until he's hard. Then Maitimo takes him, slowly and tenderly, until they both are tired enough to fall asleep.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>So Findekáno smiles and kisses Maitimo back and offers him his body to use and lets the want he feels for his broken, beautiful lover consume him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Inside, Findekáno can't stop screaming.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That had been the last night they've found a chance to be alone before yet the next separation; but now Findekáno has made it to get away from his people for another couple of days, and they should enjoy whatever bliss they can get before there will surely be blood and death again.</p><p>But then nothing would <em>change</em>.</p><p>Findekáno doesn't know if and how often he can muster up the strength for these little therapy sessions that probably none of Maitimo's healers would approve of. He only knows that he doesn't want to feel like in that last night again.</p><p>Ever.</p><p>So they either cancel or pull through with this. And Eru be damned if Ñolofinwë, High King of the Ñoldor, raised a quitter.</p><p>So Findekáno just kisses Maitimo's ice-cold hand after he's put a soft leather cuff on his wrist instead of removing it again right away, kisses one knuckle after the other, and rubs back the blood flow into it that Maitimo's growing unease has cut off. Only then, he reaches for the long black cloth he's brought. Thanks to the mutilation that his own hand has dealt out to his husband, naturally, they'll have to find a way around traditional restraints, and Findekáno is, in fact, still trying to figure out exactly how to do this.</p><p> </p><p>He's so busy with that, with measuring, looking back between the bedframe and the too soon ending lower arm that he gently holds by the elbow that he notices a moment too late how Maitimo's bared shape under his own stiffens, sees too late how the silver of his eyes turns dark in growing panic and empty with hateful defiance.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno curses and scoots back in a hurry, to take his weight off Maitimo's hips, give him the freedom he needs in situations like this when he's furthest from their marital bed as can be. But he already know he's too slow and it's too late, that he'll probably spend the night with the healers or wheezing in pain on the mattress for the next two hours, depending on if that fist hits his sternum or his side …</p><p> </p><p>But then, the frozen over blue and silver of his own soul is ablaze with the heat and molten gold of his husband's mind. Maitimo shakes himself out of it violently, drawing back just in time. He stares at Findekáno from wide eyes for a moment and then turns his head away, still shivering but wordless. Apologies never made a difference in moments like this.</p><p>Yet after a few minutes that Findekáno spends only caressing Maitimo's sides, his face, and covering his skin in hectic, apologetic kisses until he feels warmer and his breathing goes back to normal, he <em>does</em> speak up. Unlike too many other nights when this kind of flashes ended in tears and with hours of awkward, painful silence. His good arm, with the shackle still loosely on its wrist, creeps around Findekáno's waist even though he still can't bring himself to look up.</p><p>It <em>is</em> getting better. Findekáno needs to remember that more often, especially in nights when it feels like Morgoth and his Maia lapdog have shattered everything to pieces that his husband was, that their marriage once was. Especially in such a night, when he learns something he never wanted to know about and still needs to, to maybe avoid the next slip like this.</p><p>"You weren't the first, you know. Trying to take it off," Maitimo adds when Findekáno frowns in confusion, and turns his head upwards on the pillow to stare at his useless maimed arm. "Two months in, they forgot a shard from a plate I had broken in my cell. Never could figure out if <em>he</em> knew. I wouldn't put it behind him to do it on purpose. Took me three attempts to shatter the base of the thumb on the wall. I thought I could do it, you know? Blood is very slippery when it's fresh. And if I'd cut too deep, if I would bleed out before I could help it … Then it would be over at least."</p><p>Maitimo returns Findekáno's clumsy embrace, clinging to him like in the first night after waking up in the healer's room back then, when he'd finally understood that he was truly free.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you? Make it?" Findekáno's own hand has now turned to ice, right where he caresses through Maitimo's loosely braided hair, and he feels his husband shiver.</p><p> </p><p>"It severed half of my hand off the wrist, but yes, the shackle was off. Passed out from blood loss before I could try the other side, sadly." A mirthless smile curls around Maitimo's full lips. "The scars were the spot where <em>he</em> sang the shackle through my flesh when they hung me on that mountain."</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno kisses that expression from Maitimo's lips because he can't take looking at it anymore and then straightens up to put the cloth away, reaching for the leather cuff at the same time. He's <em>tried</em>, no one can say he hasn't, but this is going too far.</p><p>It's once more that hopeless, haunted look on his husband's pale face that has him falter. He can either hold Maitimo through another night of nightmares now … Or he can try doing something about them, like he's helped Maitimo at least to start overcome his fear from the dark.</p><p>It's the way, Maitimo's right arm still lies motionless above his head, close to the wood of the headboard that gives him the right idea. Instead of opening the cuff, he presses another kiss to his husband's hand and then lets go of it, threading the end of the cloth around one of the headboard bars instead. The end, he ties into a firm knot and then guides the newly created sling to Maitimo's hand instead of the other way round, until his husband can feel the smooth, soft glide of the silk against his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>This time when Maitimo opens his eyes, they're filled with mild curiosity instead of dread.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you hold on to this for me, mîl?"</p><p>Maitimo catches on faster than expected, as so often, wrapping the sling loosely around his wrist, in front of the shackle, and Findekáno breathes a praising kiss to his lips. "Perfect. Just hold still for me, will you? You can let go anytime. But let me touch you, please."</p><p><em>Let me </em>love<em> you.</em></p><p> </p><p>He's not sure he's whispered it out loud via their bond, but the touch of his lover's soul against his heats up again, and this time the black tar of memory in his colors has paled a little.</p><p>Maitimo closes his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno hesitates for another moment, but this, he knows he can do by now without the fears taking over. And Maitimo has come to enjoy it very much, feeling him as intensively as it's only possible with another one of his senses shut down. So he gently pulls the loose end of the cloth down over Maitimo's eyes, just the slightest touch of fabric, freedom of it only a puff away.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo sighs and tenses for a moment, but the sensitive, tender skin of his nipples are hard to the touch when Findekáno lets his hand wander. When he catches one of them between his lips and gently tugs, the sigh turns into a moan.</p><p>
  <em>More …</em>
</p><p>This one definitely is spoken, in Findekáno's head as well as in the way, his husband shifts under him, slightly thrusting up his hips against Findekáno's behind, searching for friction as he hardens.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno ignores him for the moment and moves his head to the other side instead, his fingertips taking over the task of firmly massaging the spit-slick nub, pulling just a little too firmly in tune with the grasp of his teeth on the other nipple, until Maitimo cries out and arches up, seeking relief from the lustful twinge of pain.</p><p> </p><p>The movement has the cloth slip. When Findekáno sees that Maitimo tries to shake it back into place on his own accord, he reaches to their bedside table to get a second one. The change of position brings his own heated groin closer to Maitimo's, and now it's him moaning out as their lengths touch, Maitimo pushing upwards again to feel more of him.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo only relaxes down a little again when the new cloth is in place, not pulled tied, only loosely wrapped around his head once so he won't lose it again, and he can slip it off anytime himself. Just like the cloth that he's pushed his other arm into now as well, up to the elbow, holding on for purchase. A faint sheen of sweet pools in the middle of his still too narrow chest; his breathing is going too irregular, too shallow again, but this time it's no longer fear crawling over his skin in shivers.</p><p><em>Finno … </em>Touch<em> me …</em></p><p> </p><p>"Sh … I'm here. You're doing so good …" Findekáno kisses his hand, and then his stump, to leave no doubt what he means, and then Maitimo's lips while he slowly rubs his cleft up and down his lover's length, making him feel that he's already prepared himself earlier. "Do you want me, mîl? Want me to ride you while you're so beautifully spread out for me, just waiting for me to pleasure you?"</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo whimpers and thrusts his hips up once more, then curses as Findekáno moves away with a chuckle, going on his elbows and knees instead to continue licking and nibbling lazy circles over his chest, his loins, his thighs, leaving out his most sensitive spots on purpose. A few times, Findekáno sees his arms move, how he's tempted to reach down and guide his head where Maitimo needs it, sees his hand almost slip from the sling before it violently claws down on the fabric again.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo's cock is leaking pearls of white all over his stomach, and Findekáno licks them away one by one, his right hand ghosting over his lover's length, spreading the next layer of sticky fluid all over it. "You're doing so good for me, mîl …" he purrs again, and his own neglected cock gives a most interested twitch as he feels his lover's jerk in his hand at his words. He makes a mental note to keep in mind how much his lover seems to enjoy praise and then brings their lengths together to spread more, his own precum now, on Maitimo's reddened, throbbing flesh.</p><p>"I think you deserve a treat … If there's anything you want, you know, just tell me …"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Please</em> …" Maitimo thrashes about and thrusts up and curses when Findekáno lets go immediately, and Findekáno could swear he can feel him glare through the cloth over his eyes. "Valar, Findekáno, would you <em>kindly</em> get your ass on my <em>gwib</em> please?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't appreciate the tone but …" Findekáno chuckles and kisses the wet tip of Maitimo's cock when his lover makes move to actually bring his knee up in retaliation.</p><p>The kisses wander higher, over his scar-covered stomach up to his sternum, his teeth finding the same spot on the side of Maitimo's neck where he's left so many bruises already as he aligns himself with his husband's cock, taking him in painstakingly slow.</p><p>It's a tight fit all preparations aside, but he doesn't stop, not once, because Maitimo is moaning and trembling and wrapping the cloth two or three times more around his arms to try and hold himself back from just grabbing Findekáno's hips and fucking up into him until they both come.</p><p>Another time, he'll gladly allow that. Today, he prefers covering his lover's lips in deep kisses, the tip of his tongue finding every corner of his mouth in the rhythm of his slow movements, while his hands are on Maitimo's nipples again, rubbing and twisting them back into hardness.</p><p>Occasionally, Maitimo tries to thrust up into him sharply, then Findekáno stops moving altogether, moving away from him until he almost slips out and Findekáno's own body screams to have the emptiness filled that his lover left. Then Maitimo falls back down on the mattress, panting and whimpering. Only then, Findekáno takes him in again, inch by inch, until he's fully seated, enjoying nothing but this perfect sensation filling him so very deeply, the fluttering of his own, too far stretched muscles, the delicious bump of cock against his prostate when he angles his hips just right.</p><p>Only when Maitimo is an incoherently babbling mess under him, his cock impossibly hard inside, and Findekáno can feel his own balls draw close to his body, he straightens up, after a none too-gentle bite to Maitimo's lips that has his lover cry out again, and starts to ride him in earnest, quick, hard, without break or mercy, until Maitimo spends himself inside of him with a yell of his name.</p><p>Blindly, Findekáno reaches up and frees Maitimo's hand from the sling, guiding it down, and his lover is nice enough to not torture him back but coax his own orgasm out of him with a few quick strokes.</p><p> </p><p>It's become a ritual. Today, as well, Findekáno first cleans them up with a cloth he's warmed on some heated stones earlier and blows out all candles before he frees Maitimo of the blindfold and removes the cloth from the bedframe.</p><p> </p><p>When he reaches for his husband's hand to open the cuff, though, Maitimo stops him, still panting softly, with his cheeks flushed, exhaustion slurring his words. "Leave it on. Please?"</p><p><em>Let me get used to this</em>, he whispers in his mind, painting with his emotions, what his words can express, and Findekáno understands.</p><p>It's not only about these games they play. They're still at war. No one knows if one of them might possibly get taken captive again. Maitimo wants to stand straight in the eye of his enemies then.</p><p> </p><p>"Tell me when you want it off, alright? Wake me up in the middle of the night, if you have to." Findekáno kisses his fingers again, and this time, they're warm.</p><p>He falls asleep to the feeling of his husband softly playing with his braids, and when one of them gets caught in the buckle of the cuff from time to time, that is a discomfort he can easily live with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. My voice when I couldn't speak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The gag, Findekáno thinks, should be fairly easy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Much of what they have been talking about trying out, with the hope to get Maitimo better, will be a swim in uncharted waters for Findekáno. Before Angband, they have only had one single night together – merely an hour, really –, and before that, there was nothing but clumsy groping in cabinets and pantries as a highlight of otherwise fairly boring receptions. Except for in his head, Findekáno doesn't know much about the countless practices and techniques to please a partner.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo however, has been confronted with them, suffered from them for years, and it's left him a wreck that Findekáno is trying to rebuild piece by piece. That's why he agreed to this whole madness of accompanying his husband through his darkest memories. And he has no illusion that much of what this journey will require will bring him to his own limits.</em>
</p><p><em>But keeping it down is one of the few things </em>not<em> new to either of them, and hasn't ever been. It's what they had to do ever since they had started to explore each other's bodies, as much as the limits of pre-marriage modesty, secrecy and time pressure had allowed.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Whether it was Maitimo's strong teeth biting huge bruises into Findekáno's shoulder, many of which whatever flimsy robe he was wearing that night could hardly cover afterwards … A piece of his own scarf between Maitimo's lips when Findekáno was on his knees before him, doing his best to get him to orgasm before anyone could come looking for them or the servants needed a few new bottles of wine … Or simply Findekáno's tongue down Maitimo's throat when he came all over his hand … The need to silence his lover has quickly become a necessity in the beginning of their relationship, because Maitimo can't be quiet during sex for the life of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or well, he couldn't.</em>
</p><p><em>"In </em>his<em> fortress, you quickly learn how to shut up if you don't want them to make you", Maitimo has once told Findekáno in the very beginning of their renewed love life, when Findekáno encouraged him to give in to his arousal more, to let it escape his raw lips and echo from the fairly soundproof walls.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>At that point Findekáno had had enough conversations with the healers to know that the scars on Maitimo's voice box, from having been crushed by punches or a huge metal glove, will probably never pale far enough for his once so warm, soft voice to ever sound the same again. So instead of pushing further, he's kissed his lover and climbed him, riding him to completion, because Maitimo can't deal with Findekáno going easy on him when they're in the middle of their act. A ruined orgasm is worse than a few seconds of tears and being lost in that acid black ocean that has become part of Maitimo's soul.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But Findekáno hasn't forgotten. And so the subject comes up again, once they spent a few nights getting more and more secure about including the progress they made so far into their act.</em>
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</p><p>
  <em>Maitimo is doing greatly with a loosely wrapped blindfold at this point, and he always has his arms already in the improvised sling on the headboard before Findekáno is even finished tying it. Some of the nightmares at least, seem to have lessened, and Maitimo doesn't flinch anymore when there's a candle unexpected going out or when Findekáno grabs his wrists a little too tightly by accident during fucking him into the mattress.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The next step seems to be logical, but when Findekáno just mentions filling his husband's mouth with maybe one of their scarves or some leather later that night, Maitimo's face turning snow-white is not what he's expected.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not just because they're actually both used to this, to the point where they had to cover each other's mouth with their hands when they fucked for the first time, hastily sealing their marriage bond between blood and fire and approximately ten feet away from their parents, before any of them could realize what a stupid idea that was. Not being able to talk for a few minutes didn't seem to have been a problem after Maitimo's rescue either. The Valar know they've chocked on each other's cock a number of times since they started sleeping with each other again.</em>
</p><p><em>But </em>something<em> is wrong, </em>something<em> Findekáno has said was another of these tiring, unexpected steps on one of the millions of bear traps that litter Maitimo's soul since he came back, that bite down so often on the badly patched up shield around his darkest memories and tear a new hole in them.</em></p><p>
  <em>Before Findekáno can apologize, or try to find out which one it was this time, Maitimo storms outside.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Apparently, their little experiment is already over, just when Findekáno had finally started to be convinced, it might actually be a good thing.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That Maitimo comes to see him in the guestroom of his husband's fortress reserved for Findekáno from the start and not in use a single time so far, is all of apology for the abrupt departure Findekáno needs. It's a lot harder for Maitimo to sneak in here than it is for Findekáno to find excuses why he has to see Fëanáro's son at the oddest times. In this building at least, there's hardly people they can still fool anyway.</p><p>Maitimo stokes the fire before he joins Findekáno under the covers of the generously sized bed, and by that time he's bare.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno wordlessly curls up against his chest, his so much smaller body melting into Maitimo's tall frame, warming every inch of pale, marred skin he can reach, kissing words off his lips he doesn't need to hear, not right now, until Maitimo is not trembling any longer, at least not from coldness or anxiety.</p><p> </p><p>By that time, they're both hard, but when Findekáno reaches down, Maitimo catches his wrist in his remaining hand to stop him. There's a darkness in the silver storm that is his eyes Findekáno hasn't seen in a while, and it chokes him before his husband has said one word.</p><p>"It's not you. It's <em>never</em> you. You know that, right?"</p><p>Findekáno nods shakily, but Maitimo doesn't even seem to notice. His thoughts are anywhere but in this overheated, sparsely furnished room.</p><p>"What you did for me, what <em>we</em> did … I haven't forgotten how much you hate it, Finno. But it's helping, I can see that just like you do. And I'm grateful when you're pushing forward even when I can't show it. But <em>this</em> … I just … I can't deal with having anything in my mouth that doesn't belong there. Anything foreign, unnatural … I can't breathe anymore once it's inside for too long."</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno doesn't tell him <em>Well, then you don't have to</em>, because that is not what Maitimo needs to hear; that, he already has understood. Instead, his fingertips graze Maitimo's full, trembling lips, just the softest of touches, and he's relived when his husband doesn't flinch. It's one of the few chances when Maitimo is the one who needs to talk instead of needing to be persuaded to, and these rare opportunities, Findekáno can never let go by, no matter how many new nightmares he'll be walking away with this time.</p><p>"You told me, they liked to use your mouth. And to hear you scream." It's not supposed to be an excuse for Findekáno thoughtlessly bringing his proposal up earlier, because Maitimo doesn't need to forgive him. But Findekáno needs to understand.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo kisses his fingertips absent-mindedly, teeth getting caught on Findekáno's thumb for a moment, and they both shudder. But that's for later. For now they need to negotiate how the night will go.</p><p>"They did. What the Dark Lord <em>doesn't</em> like is being called <em>Morgoth</em>. When you're chained and blind, words are the next best weapon. Until you learn better." He rolls his eyes, and Findekáno doesn't bother figuring out if it is at his own stupidity or naivety in the first months of his imprisonment. Nothing that has happened to Maitimo was his fault, nothing at all. It's one of the hardest lessons that Findekáno is sometimes still busy hammering into his head.</p><p>They're close enough for Findekáno to see how Maitimo's tongue is moving agitatedly, probably unconsciously, brushing tiny hardened spots on the insides of his lips and cheeks that Findekáno has never paid much attention to before, though he knows his husband's mouth better than his own. Compared to the many other scars Maitimo has been returned to him with, these had seemed rather neglectable to him, and to the healers as well. Only now he realizes that might have been a mistake.</p><p>"Once you spent a full month with barbed wire between your lips, you stop being smart with the wrong people."</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno does his best to swallow down the bile at the back of his throat as he puts his hands around his husband's face and kisses him again, slowly and deeply, keeping him from continuing to bite down on those numerous scars in most sensitive places and possibly breaking one of them open. He can't let Maitimo flee from this old pain into new one, he's promised himself and his husband that in the very beginning. It's <em>his</em> job to take care of these poisoning, destructive remainders in Maitimo's head of the worst time of his life, no matter how much effort it sometimes cost both of them.</p><p>"Can I leave you alone for a few minutes, mîl? I need to get something from the kitchen." It's a very spontaneous idea, coming with the urge of giving Maitimo's restless tongue something better to do than seeking traces of his ordeal over and over again; but Findekáno instinctively feels, it's the right one.</p><p> </p><p>And by now, Maitimo knows too when Findekáno has a plan he's confident enough in, so he lets go of him, albeit reluctantly. "Can I have your tunic again?"</p><p> </p><p>"Another one of my clothes that will mysteriously go missing, you mean?" Findekáno chuckles, quickly discarding the fine dark blue silk, only for Maitimo to bury his face in it, with a content, deep sigh, a sound that Findekáno would have sacrificed much more for than a little fabric.</p><p>He quickly throws on a loose cloak on his half-naked body but doesn't bother straightening his braids. A disheveled appearance will help his tragic story of having massive trouble with sleeping and being in need of home remedies. The thought of how his mother has sometimes treated him with a small piece of honeycomb when he's been afraid of a storm outside, is a bittersweet sting in his heart that he allows himself to indulge him on the way back to the chambers, the plate with his conquest carefully held against his side. He doesn't actually know if they really help with sleeping – they're definitely not meant for it tonight – but they sure make for an awesome snack.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo seems to recognize the overly sweet smell immediately as well when he enters, though that is one of his senses that hasn't completely regained its former strength yet, and raises a sharp brow at him. "Is there <em>any</em> time when you don't think about food?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, one of us has to, since you refuse to," Findekáno replies dryly, with a pointed look at Maitimo's still too thin shape. "And no. They're for you."</p><p> </p><p>"For me?" Confused but at least not appalled, Mae looks down on the plate when Findekáno puts it down between them, stretching out on his side again.</p><p> </p><p>"Careful, they might be a little hot still." Findekáno grins at the memory of the kitchen helper warning him that these things will be even stickier and basically impossible to chew once they're heated. Poor guy couldn't have known, that's the idea.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you even eat those?" A little skeptical still, Maitimo holds up one of the big golden chunks, the honey dripping slowly and thick over his fingers, and Findekáno has to hold back hard from lapping at them.</p><p>"If you want to. Not everyone likes the hard parts. But no, the idea is to keep them in your mouth and suck them dry." That wasn't <em>exactly</em> meant to sound as dirty as it does, but when Maitimo blushes, Findekáno also does and rolls his eyes, pushing the plate closer to his husband. "Another time, maybe. What do you think? You can spit them out anytime."</p><p> </p><p>And that, as usual, is the important part, the most important message he needs to lock inside Maitimo's soul, to train his instincts on, if he wants to have even a <em>shot</em> at his husband ever being whole and as happy as can be again … That Maitimo's <em>free</em> again, free to do whatever he likes, to make whatever decision he wants, for better or for worse. Free in their relationship on every single level and always in full control, no matter what they do.</p><p>By now, this is not something Findekáno needs to put in words that clearly anymore. After another pensive look back and forth between plate and him, Maitimo lays back, head and shoulders resting high on a few pillows for comfort, and slips the honeycomb between his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno catches his hand before Maitimo can get the stupid idea of wiping it anywhere and makes it his single purpose for the next minute or so to lick every smallest drop of sweet off his lover's skin, until his Maitimo is breathing noticeably heavier and small pants break the chewing and slurping noises from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p><em>Admit it, you just needed an excuse for a midnight snack</em>, Maitimo's amused voice sounds in their bond.</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno allows himself a nonchalant shrug and swings his legs over his Maitimo's hips to get comfortable on his slightly spread thighs.</p><p><em>Have you </em>ever<em> known me to let any food go to waste?</em></p><p>Maitimo doesn't get much chance for wise-cracking anymore after that, because Findekáno has snatched himself one of the smaller combs and now places it right in the middle of his husband's chest. His eyes fixed on Maitimo's face, he stretches out his tongue rather obscenely and starts pushing the little web of oozing holes around on the quickly heaving surface, until he's left an impressive layer of gold. Picking up the honeycomb between his fingertips he moves it to one of Maitimo's nipples and squeezes, his cock giving a most interested twitch when Maitimo moans out around the food in his mouth. Oh, this is going to be fun.</p><p>After repeating the process on the other side, Findekáno takes all the time he needs to clean his husband's chest. Ignoring the trembling hand in his hair that tries to push him in a certain direction from time to time, he nibbles and sucks, licks and downright bites until he can feel Maitimo's cock jerk in desire against his stomach and hear a half-protesting, half-longing plea in his head.</p><p>Only then he moves to give Maitimo's tightly pebbled nipples the same treatment. He'd have to lie, claiming it is not a truly sexy sound that comes from his lover's lips now, muffled but ever growing louder. Broken with arousal instead of injury now, breathless only from gasping under every assault of teeth and every firm pull of lips.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Findekáno reaches for the honeycomb again, his eager lover seems to be finished with his own, the pitiful remainders being carelessly dropped on the bed beside them just when he looks up. Their eyes meet, a silent offer that is very openly declined with Maitimo's hand going for that plate again for a refill.</p><p>
  <em>Please …</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The picture Findekáno sees in their bond is very unambiguous, and nothing he hasn't planned anyway, so he loses no time, dripping the rest of the comb's smooth content straight onto Maitimo's straining cock. He's being very thorough there as well, coating the oversensitive, reddened skin deliberately, from the broad, leaking head down to Maitimo's large, full balls. His husband is a bucking mess before he's even started touching him.</p><p>Then it's nothing but sweetness against Findekáno's lips and salt on his skin, and Maitimo breathing so heavily that he threatens to choke on his own helping of honey a few times. But he always catches himself again, and on his face, Findekáno sees nothing but pure bliss whenever he looks ups. So he never stops thrusting his head down onto Maitimo's length, driving his lover crazy with the rapid, greedy movements of his tongue and the friction of the roof of his mouth, until he can be fairly sure, all that he's tasting is his lover's very own grounded note mixed with the first signs of a quickly approaching orgasm.</p><p>Findekáno is fully prepared to wait for just that – in nights like these, his own lust is always secondary.</p><p> </p><p>But Maitimo sees of course, the way he's humping the crumbled covers, feels Findekáno's moans vibrate around him as he is taking him almost all the way down his throat once more and stops him with a plea in his mind that is more a feeling than a word, Maitimo has forgotten how to form.</p><p>
  <em>Not enough. Need you …</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno curses, staving off his own height with all his willpower and blindly reaches for the next available oil vial on the nightstand. It's a good thing he's already been busy with himself, to forget the worst of grief and frustration, before his husband came to see him, because he's not sure he wouldn't have made it through much preparation. Three fingers is still not enough, not given Maitimo's impressive length and girth, but Findekáno enjoys the stretch and burn, its exactly what he needs right now.</p><p>As he bends over his lover, one too soon ending arming keeping him firmly against Maitimo's chest, he spots the mess his own idea has left on his husband's lips and chin and wastes no time licking it off, between shrieks and groans and encouragements as Maitimo starts fucking up into him in earnest.</p><p> </p><p>The last rest of honeycomb is spitted halfway across the room before Maitimo pulls him in to invade his mouth, croaked, needy moans in his throat as Findekáno wastes no time freeing him from the last remainders of their forbidden snack inside his mouth as well.</p><p>
  <em>Greedy bastard.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Am I supposed to pretend you don't love it?</em>
</p><p>The answer is another thrust with all of Maitimo's considerable strength that spears Findekáno's body on every glorious inch of cock, and they both forget how to mind speak.</p><p>It's only after Findekáno has left a whole different mess on Maitimo's chest this time, his lover following not soon after, that it dawns on Findekáno, the sticky mess inside of him might not only his husband's heated release. He winces softly, quickly detaching from his lover at the thought, ignoring Maitimo's nagging growl. If he's missed a spot or two earlier before riding his husband back to the Years of the Trees, that might be a problem in the next few days.</p><p> </p><p>But Maitimo is sighing and purring against him when he snuggles up by his side again, too fucked out to even mind the completely ruined sheets and already half way off into what will hopefully be peaceful dreams.</p><p> </p><p>And Findekáno decides, that is worth every discomfort in this world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. And all I can taste is this moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The next issue is a non-issue for Findekáno, at first.</em>
</p><p><em>He'd honestly never considered Maitimo having trouble with being fed before, seeing as his husband was basically a walking skeleton by the time Findekáno got him out of Angband. </em>Too much<em> food certainly doesn't seem to have been an issue back then.</em></p><p><em>On the contrary: Ever since Maitimo's basic physical recovery, his complicated relationship with food has been giving Findekáno a headache whenever they meet. He never had considered this matter to be part of their weird, dangerous but so far quite helpful bedroom therapy sessions, because trying to get Maitimo to eat right had been daily routine whenever they spent time together for </em>years<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>But on one especially chilly first evening during their annual winter break together, Findekáno sneaks on Maitimo's lap during dessert, longing to share not only warmth but also that wonderful cake with his husband that Himring's cooks have come up with in honor of Findekáno's earlier arrival. There's not even some hidden agenda this time, though Maitimo's still too narrow frame and his unnerving unhealthy diet plan will be subject in the next few weeks once more. Findekáno really just wants his beloved to enjoy this piece of heaven that is that honey-and-cream-filling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's only when he brings the full fork to Maitimo's lips, with his lover's head cradled in the crook of his elbow, thereby blocked from an escape in a way Findekáno really should know by now to look out for, that he feels his husband's body stiffen in a very familiar way. Just in time, he sees the black in Maitimo's widened eyes, the harsh wrinkles around the broken line of his lips, and curses himself for his thoughtlessness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Quickly dropping the fork, he lets go of Maitimo, slips one leg closer to the ground, in case he has to get away quickly from his husband's much taller and stronger body; something. he's had to learn painfully it in the course of their sessions, whenever trauma has overshadowed the real, living present reality. Gently wrapping his arms around Maitimo's waist, he murmurs an apology against his shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Findekáno can feel the tendons under his lover's whitish skin move as he swallows thickly, with some effort, as if trying to get something too big or nasty past a long non-existent gag reflex. But Maitimo just shakes his head and presses his lips to Findekáno's half-bared shoulder, then gives his ear a nibble that has Findekáno shiver in spite of the unpleasant situation. He's not in the mood to talk, and for once, Findekáno thinks, he </em>really<em> doesn't need explanations.</em></p><p><em>Just because they starved him almost to death, doesn't mean they never forced his lover to ingest </em>anything<em> at all. The numerous inner burns and scarred over cuts in his throat and deeper, the indications of small parts of his organs having been removed by his captors, all of which the healers had to mend after Maitimo's escape, spoke a pretty clear language. Findekáno just hasn't read it right until now.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Are you finished, mîl? It is you, I am hungering for. It's been too long."</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Findekáno isn't exactly sated because he's seldom sated with food, but he's also not hungry on any level anymore. So he just nods against Maitimo's neck.</em>
</p><p><em>Besides, his husband is already hard against Findekáno's crotch when he lifts him up and Findekáno's legs around him to carry him next door. It </em>has<em> been far too many months without his lover's touch.</em></p><p>
  <em>So the half-full table and the leftover cake and the pain and the memory stay behind, for now, are shed along the way, just like Findekáno's tunic and Maitimo's cloak. Then he's being buried under Maitimo's so much taller frame, long fingers generously coated in oil spreading him open, Maitimo's tongue in his mouth leaving a far better taste than any sweets in this world or the one across the sea, and Findekáno is happy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But if there's one thing Maitimo should know by now it is that Findekáno doesn't forget.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This one, Findekáno is being careful with because Maitimo and food, that will not become a love story anytime soon. And this, for once, isn't about getting some more fat and muscle onto him or about preventing him from falling off his horse on his morning ride, because Maitimo is of the firm conviction that a dusty piece of old cheese makes for perfectly acceptable breakfast.</p><p>This is about his husband learning to trust that nothing ever coming at him from Findekáno's body, his hands, his mouth, his mind, is ever meant to harm him in any way that he has not asked for.</p><p>So Findekáno doesn't even try and get Maitimo to eat. He just indulges in one of his most favorite pastime activities himself a lot more around his husband, which isn't exactly punishment. There really is hardly a time when Findekáno is not being hungry, and Himring's kitchen servants know what they're doing.</p><p>Findekáno makes sure there's always a scone waiting on his bedside table when they wake up, and he's completely unapologetic enjoying it while Maitimo groans and buries his nose in the pillow to escape the smell of berries and flour before the sun has even come up. When Findekáno not busy screwing his husband within an inch of his life or with reading some notes from their last meeting with Maitimo's advisors, he always has some fruit in his hand. No matter if it's on a common ride, a walk around the lake, or when they're lounging on their bed, there's always some cherry, apple, or grape seed in his mouth to noisily spit it in a bowl on the nightstand.</p><p>Dessert henceforth is not taking place at the dinner table anymore, and fortunately, his husband is far too desperate for his nearness and touch to try and avoid joining him in bed just because Findekáno makes very sure he can never escape the sight, scent, and taste of food in there now.</p><p> </p><p>After a few days, just like he's hoped, Maitimo lets Findekáno's habits sway him and snatches one or two pieces of fruit from Findekáno's bowl when they talk. A week in, he actually asks for half of his pie, and that's when Findekáno knows, he's winning.</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo claims, of course, that he only wants to look out for Findekáno not eating <em>too</em> much (as if he would leave him a chance to gain weight between fucking him every night), but he does look like he enjoys himself at least from time to time. That Maitimo is slowly getting his body used to the occasional snack again, instead of just grudgingly emptying half of his plate twice a day, because that he has to do if he does want to stay fit enough for training ... It's a side-effect Findekáno hasn't dared to hope for and a definite improvement. But it's not <em>really</em> what he's been after.</p><p>His actual plan, he is finally getting to once he's found out, Maitimo really loves his orange pie.</p><p> </p><p>It's been an especially exhausting day, including a ride to a potential sight of a battle. The last few hours were a lot colder and more unpleasant than planned. So Findekáno doesn't mind when his lover declares dinner finished even earlier than usual tonight.</p><p>He makes short work of his clothes on the way to their bedroom, swinging his hips in invitation though he still feels uncomfortably chilled from too many layers of snow soaking through his tunics and breeches. He manages to pull all three covers over his body before Maitimo has a chance to even lay down.</p><p> </p><p>"Greedy as usual," his husband grumbles, but he says it with a smile, especially when Findekáno lifts the thick wool and fur for him to slip under them beside him.</p><p>When he does and then reaches his arm out for Findekáno, he's stopped short by the plate suddenly standing between them on the pillow. "Really?" For a moment, he feigns annoyance about Findekáno's shameless teasing but he can't keep it up for long at the delicious smell of citrus and half-melted chocolate icing right in front of his face. The pout deepens, while a spark of amusement gleams in his silver eyes. "And you didn't even think to bring forks? You're getting more creative with torture than Sauron, mîl."</p><p> </p><p>Findekáno rolls his eyes at his husband's terrible humor and reaches for the plate because his stomach gives a growl. "Who said anything about forks?"</p><p>Under Maitimo's slightly confused look, he scoops up a little bit of the chocolate and of the cream filling underneath with his index finger and makes it a show, licking both off very slowly and deliberately, with closed eyes and small moans of delight. "You know, if I wasn't married already, I'd think about courting your baker."</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo doesn't even try and pretend to be offended; his eyes are fixed on the way, Findekáno slowly licks his lips. "I know for a fact, they would not be able to satisfy you, mîl, so I guess you're stuck with me."</p><p>He makes a move to lean over and snatch the last crumb of chocolate from Findekáno's lips, but that tilts the plate dangerously and he sinks back on his side with a grunt. "Can you eat less obviously?"</p><p> </p><p>"Where would be the fun in that?" In fact, when Findekáno breaks off another small piece of cake to devour, he has his other hand casually slip deeper under the covers, humming with enjoyment on more than one level while he chews and runs his fingertips slowly over his hardening nipples.</p><p>The weather has been his unwilling assistant tonight. This wasn't even part of the plan. But thanks to the covers shielding most of his slightly heated shape, Maitimo's senses are fully trained on what he <em>can</em> see, without a real escape unless he wants his husband to be a pitifully shaking mess until the fire is finally burning high enough.</p><p> </p><p>The image even holds his lover's attention too much to go for a piece of his favorite treat himself. When Findekáno's hand moves deeper, starting a very unambiguous up and down motion somewhere close to his hips, a first moan comes from Maitimo's lips. "Really? Having fun without me while I'm <em>right here</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just until you've had your dessert," Findekáno murmurs, with less snark and more sincere care than planned. When he reaches out for the plate again, the time is just right.</p><p>Now he waits with the next mouthful on his index and middle finger, his hand hovering above the plate, his slightly raised brows asking, not demanding. Maitimo's hand shoots forward to grab his wrist when he slowly starts to pull back, and Findekáno knows, he's won.</p><p>He doesn't press forward, not once. He lets Maitimo guide him until he can feel his lover's too quick, hot breath against his skin, the touch of wet warmth against his fingertips that has his half-hard cock in his own hand go to full attention. An encouraging smile on his lips, he lets his husband clean him, pushing his soiled fingers only as far into Maitimo's mouth as his lover is asking for it until every trace of food is gone from them.</p><p>With his dry fingertips, he tenderly strokes a few stray strands of red from Maitimo's forehead, caresses his temple, his slightly opened lips. "See? That's more like it. Knew you were hungry, too."</p><p> </p><p>Maitimo shudders. The freckle-littered part of his shoulder that is not covered by blankets is flushed, shining in the slowly rising heat of the flames. He cannot always get in that space in his splintered and half-patched-up mind, but this seems to be a night for praise then. "More?"</p><p> </p><p>"As much as you want, mîl." Findekáno doesn't even try to take it slow or not get himself too dirty now. Those sheets will have to get changed once more tomorrow anyway. He's pretty sure, no servant in this fortress bats a lid at <em>that</em> at this point.</p><p>He uses his slightly trembling hand as a living plate, slowly feeding his lover one small chunk of semisolid, sugary mass after the other. Telling Maitimo again and again how well he's doing and how lovely he looks when he's enjoying himself, he soaks up every smallest whine of pleasure from his lover, every deep sigh. The way Maitimo's wicked, skilled tongue moves over Findekáno's skin, chasing every smallest trace of sweet.</p><p> </p><p>Soon enough, the room is <em>too</em> hot, and Findekáno reluctantly pulls back to shove the covers away. He winces when the rough fabric scrapes over his over-sensitive erection and adjusts himself quickly. It might not be by <em>pure</em> accident that he uses the wrong hand, spreading the rest from Maitimo's last helping in a spot that it wasn't actually intended to go – or maybe it was –, and when he looks up again, his husband's similarly heated eyes are on his hips.</p><p>Instead of bracing himself on his elbow again to continue their little game, Findekáno decides to lay down on his back with his legs slightly spread in an invitation, his lower lip caught between his lips as he reaches out gently in the silver-blue ocean that is their wedding bond, to feel if his instincts still serve him right.</p><p>
  <em>More?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>For a second, he can feel a shudder of black in his husband's soul that is not uncommon but has, fortunately, become rare in the course of his recovery. Just faint, blurred, ragged flashes of memory, of his lover's beautiful mouth, abused in the worst possible ways, hardly breaking the mingled color of their minds and easily being drowned out by everything they've built in the last few years.</p><p> </p><p>Still, Findekáno waits, unmoving, like he always does, and only dares to close his eyes for a moment, shivers spreading from his crotch up to the emptiness that is his behind and his hardened nipples, when his lover is kneeling over him with the half-empty plate in his hand.</p><p>He shouldn't do that. Usually, Findekáno always looks, he always watches, he's always <em>aware</em> on nights like this. But the first touch of lips against his straining erection is too tempting after that very delicious kind of foreplay. He leans his head back with a quiet keen and forces his lower body to lie still with the sheer power of his will while his lover slowly licks and kisses up and down his cock.</p><p>For a moment, he wonders if that plate is already forgotten, but then there's the foreign, soft, sticky touch of filling against his skin and he moans out deeply, a sound echoing from the rocky, fur-covered walls as Maitimo covers his pulsating flash thoroughly with cream and fruit and then goes to work. A smooth, cool sensation a few inches lower, hitting him just when Maitimo has taken all of him in, sucking him deep into his throat with enough enthusiasm to have Findekáno see stars, has him know, his husband's remaining hand hasn't been idle either.</p><p>With a breathless, pleading moan he spreads his legs further and bends them for better access after Maitimo has withdrawn for a bit. The foreign, not entirely ideal feeling of cream on and inside of places where it's usually not supposed to go, has Findekáno scrunch his nose a little. But he doesn't have it in him to complain, not with Maitimo's gently circling, scissoring fingers deep inside of him and his husband's tongue and teeth busy sucking every small bit of food from his reddened, pulsating cock.</p><p>A third finger joins, all three fingertips pressing dead on Findekáno's most sensitive point the moment, Maitimo thrusts his head down again, keeping Findekáno's trembling hips still with the pure strength of his stump braced on his stomach. Before he knows, he's coming, moaning his husband's name.</p><p>The bad conscience about a too abrupt ending doesn't leave much room for the afterglow. The moment he can see clearly again, Findekáno reaches out for his husband's marred arm and pulls Maitimo up on top of him, kissing the smug expression of his lips. Deeply invading his mouth, tasting himself and a delicious note of sweet, he reaches down to grab his husband's firm behind in both hands, keeping him close while he rubs his thigh against Maitimo's rock hard cock.</p><p>
  <em>Tell me how you want me, mîl.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There is no answer in their bond, but when he opens his eyes next, the plate is standing next to his head again. Maitimo lets go of him just enough to kneel upright on the bed, his arms braced against the frame, his massive, weeping erection close enough to Findekáno's half-opened lips to lick off a few drops of white with a content sigh before Findekáno reaches out for the cake again.</p><p>Dessert is very obviously not yet finished.</p>
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